


MIS(S)HAPS

by May_Joannis



Category: Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Tony Stark - Fandom
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Not Like That, Other, dad tony, kinda angsty, mcu - Freeform, possible romance in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7944664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May_Joannis/pseuds/May_Joannis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mishaps happens. Most of the time it happens in the most unlikely time and way. After a one night stand that leads to something bigger, Tony thought he wouldn't have to screw up again that he might just get a grip. But when she left him, his whole world come crashing down. Little did he know, when she left she was carrying the little Stark she was too afraid to tell him. Seventeen years later, Alexis who is raised in a foster home as an orphan all along come across a revelation that hits her like a truck. And Tony who just got the words feels like his world got turned upside down all over again. The woman he loves takes form in the most unlikely way. He's got a responsibility now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1. Cherry Blossom and Fizz

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction I ever had the guts to publish on AO3. My apologies beforehand, because I know this might suck so bad.  
> The first chapter or more like Chapter 0 is kind of a prologue for the whole remaining story. You creeps who looks for incest, you wouldn't find what you're looking for here. Move along (xD)  
> So yeah, thank you so much for your time and enjoy! XX  
> [P.S.: I'm sorry for grammatical errors, and weird plot. Oh and there's mentions of abortion in the first chapter, I feel like I should warn ya.]

               A dinner like no other, they would say. Charity Balls and such events are pretty self explanatory with the “rich only” invisible tag. Sure, all these people are coming in for “a great cause” and “a noble gesture” because of their flooding fortunes. Well, that and a little bit of bragging going on. All these people with their millions of layers of pleasantries and cheek kisses sickens her. She excused herself from the crowd for “some air”. With a glass of champagne in her fingers, she went out to the balcony tasting the breeze February spring had to offer. A sigh, and sip through the light champagne glass. The city looks very pretty from there that night. She was deep in thought when a voice cracked some consciousness back into her leaning figure.

“Let me guess, pretty boring party for pretty lady?”

She turned to him, and threw him the most sincere fake smile she could bestow.

“Oh, how rude of me. Tony. Stark. Tony Stark.” He reached out for her hand.

“No kidding. THE Tony Stark? Howard Stark’s son?” She fake-surprised, with a little hint of genuine delight as he took her hand and kissed her knuckle.

“Yes ma’am. Now what do you go by? Angel? No.. Goddess? No… Perfection?”

“Such a flirt.” She said, not answering his question. A cold breeze made its way across all around and in the gap between Tony and her.

“Best if we take this inside, perhaps?” He offered his arm.

“Yes, sure.” She took his arm and started walking inside.

                This is not quite right. Just a moment ago, she said she was sick with all the pleasantries. But this, this doesn’t feel like one. Heading right to the bar, the conversation carries on with such a manner that will bring any woman right to his lips and damn right it would. A few exchange of glances and laughter swept her off her feet. In no time they were swaying on the dance floor with her palms against his chest and his arms around her waist. Well, what do you expect? A little naughty rich girl having it her way with a man quite much older than herself wasn’t an abnormality.

“I’ll take it you’re representing the Starks, on your own?” She asked him

“If you’re asking me if I come alone, with no arm candy, then yes.” He was being straightforward, then he continued, “My gut told me that I would come across a magical creature in solitude. Never expect it to be THAT literal.” She blushed.

“Oh, you,” she punched his chest lightly. “Nobody told me I would meet a prince charming here, this is unfair.”

                The music was a classic, but their moves weren’t. If her parents had seen, they would told her not to do that much grinding in regards to the particularly arranged music. And it’s way too clear to see that they both were enjoying it. Before they know it, they were rushing through the stairs into the limousine he brought there with.

“Straight to my house.” Tony said, the driver immediately complied.

“Oh, and, close the compartment if you will.” The driver nodded again, and closed the compartment.

                Both of them, young, with blazing lust in their eyes and intense blood rush seemingly to move their strings like puppets. No words required, with her thighs across his lap, his mouth latched onto her neck, everything flows on its own. The light kisses he peppered around her jawline and neck brought a little chuckle and giggles here and there.

“We have arrived, sir.” The driver interrupted their intercourse to let him know. They both stepped out the car, tripped a little, and then proceeded into the house and straight into his bedroom.

“Surprisingly tidy, for a billionaire son and his habits.” She mused.

“Oh, cut that now. Anyway, where were we?” A laugh slipped and with that they continued where they left off.

              Discarding every single article of their clothing on the floor. Probably the most expensive path towards the bed, with thousand bucks dress and another thousand bucks tuxedo scattered leaving a trail behind the moaning mess. Lips still attached to his, she spun around and sit him on the bed. Two strong arms pulling her down onto his lap. One two straddles and he was putty in her hands. She drove him crazy in seconds, she own him. No, she made him let her own him. That never happened before. This girl, this woman is something else. Tony never thought such administrations would reveal as much about someone, he felt vulnerable.

               Thoughts were running through his head while she was busy nibbling his earlobe and jaw. She caught him off guard, a groan slipped out of his lips like music to her ears. She giggled when she withdraw attacking his neck and saw that he was lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

“Nothing worth this conversation.” He answered and flip her over so he’s on top now.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tony asked, before opening the tin foil. And to that, she kissed him hard slung her arms around his neck. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

               The night was a little hazy. And the morning after wasn’t unpleasant at all, as they were both very surprised that they didn’t end up hangover and sore. Instead, they woke up with a smile to each other and greeted in their authentic “I had amazing sex last night” raspy morning voice. The road were never bumpy from there, as they continue to fall in love over and over again. Tony knew, this woman will cut his habit. This woman will fill up every cavity in him. He wouldn’t have to bring girls home to let his loneliness be heard, he wouldn’t have to sip those bottles in one go to fill his empty heart.

Everything was amazing.

                Until one day those stripes hits her like a truck. She’s a positive. It's been one or two months since their intercourse and she was pretty sure they wore protection, heck she was even on the pills. How does this happen? They both were clearly unready for a family, they hang around and have sex like filthy rich youngsters supposed to. The news would break Tony apart. His parents passed away not a decade ago, the last thing he would need right now is the shock she would give him. She didn't have time. She had to leave, they were both clearly very not ready for a child in any consideration. It was spring’s happiest time. The blooming were beautiful, but not for her. Four in the morning, she flee with whatever in her purse not even bothering about her clothes. She wrote a little note for Tony to read when he’s awake:

“Tony, I think it’s best for us to take a break for a while. My family wants me home. You’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me when I’m ready. I just need a moment for myself. I love you.”

She left the note on his bedside table, and whisper, "I love you Tony. I'm so sorry. I just want you to be happy." Before she kissed his cheek and gone with the night.

                When he found the piece of paper, his whole world shook and crumbles. The woman he thought was going to be the Mrs. Right, the woman he loved so so much, too much, left him. Once again, he was left bewildered and confused. Angry, sad, you name it, he felt it. He never heard from her ever since, not even the news, her family was smart enough to dodge the spotlight. There they were, his old habits creeping up from his ankles, to his thighs to his head. He’s back at it.

                While she, she came home. It was tough for him, but tougher for her. She was young, confused and scared. Very scared. What would her parents do if they know that she is pregnant? Would they get rid of her baby? Would she want to keep her baby? Her family is a tight religious family. Her parents must be mad. It's a good thing that the media were _provided_ enough not to highlight her family. Making them seemingly laying low while being extravagantly rich at the same time. Thoughts are racing through her mind, making her head feels like it's pulsing. Before she know it, the taxi stopped.

                 There she was, in front of her own house. The gate opened before she could say anything. Three knocks on the door, and the door opens with a pair of faces she knew too well. She ran straight into her mother and father’s embrace. A thousand questions hit them.

“What’s going on sweetheart?” A tear escaped.

“What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?” She still cried.

“Because I swear to God-“ her father began to threatened.

“No Papa. I was happy, we were perfectly fine.”

“Then, what’s going on? If you don’t tell us we won’t know darling.” Her mother spoke and rubbed her back soothing her.

“Mama, I’m pregnant.” She said, and stepped away. “What do I do?”

The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemingly like hours. It feels like they were drowning from all the unsaid words, until her father began to speak.

“So. We can’t keep the baby, it was not noble. But we will NOT get rid of it. It is God’s will that this happened. It is His Plan. We all will keep this in here, in this family.”

“So the baby’s still…” She trails.

“Yes, but we can’t keep it. I am so sorry." Silence. "But three months after it was born, you will have to let go. The Orphanage will accept.” Her father said, sternly. She could only nod, grateful that her family didn’t throw her out and helped her through this instead. The tension slowly subsided when her mother lighten things up when she said, “I am going to be a grandmother.” And smiled.

“Well, after all, this is something we could celebrate. Come honey, don’t worry. We will do this.” Her father claimed.


	2. Chapter 2. Shit Happens Even If You Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexis, the iron willed girl who seems to carry around misfortune in her backpack. They met like a friction: unnoticed and for granted.

Five AM. My phone buzzed from under my pillow as if it’s trying to silently annoy me until it pokes a hole. Trying not to make a sound I forced myself out of bed. The sun haven’t rise yet, the sky is looking exquisite in this shade. Waking up way earlier than we’re designated to brings peace to my being. I deserve some quietude before all the insanity that is going to happen today. This might be an exaggeration, but I’m pretty sure, in this case it’s more of an understatement. Today is science fair day. They are also going to judge me hard on my project. I have no team, and apparently no brain too because I’m still going forward head first. Oh well, at some part back there I still believe that I’ll tackle this one.

                To be fair with, one of the many reasons I get up early is that so I wouldn’t have to be a pain in the arse of Mrs. Robinson who will be having a very hectic morning taking care of all the inhabitants of this home. I hop into the shower for a quick wash. With wet hair and a fair rate of shivering, I dress myself as presentable as I could be. And by presentable I mean the first pair of skinny jeans and t-shirt my hand come across in the drawer. I skipped my way downstairs to love me a quick breakfast. Mrs. Robinson and The Cook were already there hanging around the pantry, preparing meals for the rest of the girls. Having myself a glass of milk, I sit next to Mrs. Robinson across The Cook. Yes, he refers to himself as The Cook. No questions asked around here. In fact, I find it hilarious each time, that even just witnessing his presence could light up a smile on my face.

“Up early again today, Alexis?” Mrs. Robinson asked.

 It’s not like it’s a new habit, I am always up early to have me my privilege in the morning. To which, I just nodded while gulping down the milk in my glass.

“Got some more tweaking to the science project. Today’s the big shot.” I said, looking to both The Cook and Mrs. Robinson.

“The one project you are such a bull-headed young lady on?” The Cook cues, “Oh hell yes, Sir.” I didn’t expect myself to sound as ecstatic. With that, I fix myself a peanut butter sandwich and bid my farewell to Cook and Mrs. Robinson. “I’ll be up in the attic doing my whatever until eight. Bye.” Mrs. Robinson started to send me the authentic glare. A glare that only she can nail, the one that she always does before saying something like “I’m not going to have another messy “workstation” situation.” Or “If you forget to clean up this time…” And before she could, I shoot her some, “Relax Mrs. Robinson, I’ll clean up this time.” And disappear to the attic.

                There it is, my low budget accelerator and tubes and wires for the science fair. The unnamed project that everybody had been telling me to “just back down” on. I have never been so proud of what I created with my own two hands, what I fiddle with most nights after school thinking that this could actually change the way we all live. That this, could be the next big thing. I started to fiddle with it, to see if everything is in place and works properly. I got sucked into previewing my project that I lost track of time, until I take a peek on my wrist watch just to see that it’s already a quarter to eight in the morning. I rushed downstairs, almost forgetting to tidy things up. I went back to the pantry to see everybody is awake and functioning already. I went to The Cook’s side and ask him if he could help me carry the little heavy box from upstairs.

“Yeah, totally Xis. I’d love to.”

“Thank you so much Cook.” And then I turn to Mrs. Robinson who is already walking towards the phone to ask her if she could call me a cab.

“Yes, don’t worry sweetheart, I gotcha.” She smiled, her eyes glints.

“Thank you.”

                I subtly heard Mrs. Robinson slightly yelling, “Yes, Santa Agatha Home for Girls. You heard that right. Is there a problem?” And giggle to myself. The Cook looked at me and chuckle. “People. What’s wrong with calling a cab from a foster home?” I just nodded, “I know.” We both find the perfectly sealed and secured box with my project in it. The trip to downstairs is very tricky, considering that we got my one and only fragile science building blocks in it. I walk backwards with the box held securely on my palms.

“Easy does it… Easy does it..” Cook said as we lower the box on the terrain.

                I skipped my way back inside to fetch myself a glass of water before I head out. I sit on one of the stools by the table, and Anne nudge me and point out the headline of the papers. It reads, “New York State Science Fair”. She flashes a toothy smile and then say, “Bet ‘ya Stark’s gonna be there.”

I roll my eyes, “So what?”

Anne opens her mouth but before she could let out any syllable, a car honks in front of the porch.

“Lift’s here. See ya later, alligator” I said, grabbing my backpack and waving away. Mrs. Robinson approaches me with a fifty dollar bill on set in her palm.

Our home is far from broke, but Mrs. Robinson doesn’t have much. I can’t take it. Closing her palm, covering it with both of my cold hands I tell her, “Don’t worry Mrs. Robinson. I saved. Thank you.” She smiled and hugged me before I leave. “For good luck.” She kisses me on the cheek. I very carefully place the nameless accelerator science fair project in the cab, and duck to the passenger seat. My mind is racing with thoughts. It feels like the meals you devoured this morning threatened its presence in the back of your throat, although I haven’t ate much this morning. The nervousness washes over me in waves, each one heavier than before. The ride wasn’t long. I paid the driver, and tipped him well. With your right foot stepped on the curb my heart jumps harder than it had ever jumped before. I scold myself, I promised that this wouldn’t be THAT big of a deal.

The journey to the hall is no different. Steps are heavy, my fingers are trembling. I am trying my best to keep my face from turning pale.

“Hi, good morning!” The woman at the receptionist desk greeted me.

“Good morning, I’m going by Alexis..?”

“Ah yes, this way please.” She gets up, and shows me the way to my table.

Setting everything up on my table was easy. I got the whole get up going on. Name tag, check. Looking presentably chill, check-ish. Knowledge, check. Awkwardness, check. Waiting by the table, explaining this and that to the curious cats. After giving it some time, this isn’t as bad. Well, sure everybody has teams and moral supporters but I don’t need them, right? Looking deep into my accelerator I spoke to myself sternly, “We’ll do this, alright?”

A commotion grows and grows, the crowd just gravitate towards the entrance way. Cameras clicks, and bursts of photo flashes are sufficient to signalise Stark’s arrival. Several juries and Iron Man himself walks down the paths, checking out silly projects and modules that contributed to the fair. Sure, he isn’t as much of an arrogant cocky man now but I know that look. Because that is exactly what was going on in my mind when I took a peak earlier. Not to brag, but hey my sacrificed sleep hours and meals are worth the cockiness I bestow upon my work of art. I’m standing here, right beside my table like a statue. I can’t take a step forward or back, I just fidget as if my feet has a mind of its own and maybe they do. My palms are sweaty, but I manage not to let myself be a nervous wreck when my work is being judged. When I am able to knock some sense back into my head, I realise that I’m still clutching on the small wrench and a screwdriver. Probably not the best tool in hand when you’re on the verge of freaking out. So I go back a little bit to put the box where it should be, and clear the fog inside my mind. I just threw the wrench and the screwdriver back in its place in the box when I heard the faintest of thud and a little crack in the enormous hall. The sound was not even close to how loud my heart is shattering. Why? Because I know damn well, that that photographer just elbowed my project and knocked the panel off of it. I can feel myself turning blue. Good thing I have gotten rid of the possible weapons from my hands. And as if nothing happened, the judging still continues.

“What is the speciality of your project?” One of the judges asked.

“Well, if this particular panel hadn’t been **knocked off** and this device is perfectly running this is a temporary house electricity source. If you put an electrolyte conductor compound, this panel right here would help the copper spin and create heat and bla bla bla, you know the deal, and abracadabra, electricity. This would keep survival electricity devices on for some amount of time, keep you alive, renewable, sustainable, eco friendly and all that jazz. _THAT_ ’s the SPECIALITY of my broken project.” I spat out the last chunk of my explanation. The judges nodded, taking a look at the interface of the device I actually made, and scribbled on their paper.

“Could you demonstrate the device?” The other ask.

“Oh sure, I would gladly demonstrate _this device_ if ms. Snap Snap right there didn’t knock the panel off and completely disabling this accelerator. The manual transmission also wouldn’t be possible because the broken part is the safety switch AND the kickstarter. Not to mention that we need that to turn the device on and get it going. So I’m sorry mister and madam judges.” I think that is the proper answer to that request.

“Thank you, miss, uhh,”

“Just Alexis.”

“Yes, miss Alexis.” With that, they walk away.

The journalist got away with it, no apology, no nothing. Not even a picture. I have the full right to be annoyed and angry and _oh so bitter_. This project, I poured my soul into and in its extremely crucial moment hell seems to rain down on me. I might be sixteen years old, but I can’t help to feel the heat on my cheeks and tears welling up on the brim of my eyes as I pack in _all that was remaining_ of my project. A string of profanity made its way out of my mouth in a slight whisper. And then, I heard someone from several steps behind me.

“That was the smartest, realest, most complex project I have seen in this entire building. Cheer up kiddo, we might get in touch. Besides, that Guns N Roses T-shirt looks banging on you having to show a scientist with such a taste in music.” A very familiar voice rings. I turn around just to see none other but Tony Stark, smiling down at me. He was sincere. I am clearly in no mood for sincerity.

“Thanks.” Was the only remark I could give back to him. I didn’t want to sound rude, but with this borderline crying face everything you say will be coated in anger and bathed in spite. I am not planning to go any more impolite towards the nice billionaire who was trying to console me, so I picked myself up and hail a cab.

Returned home with a face a hundred and eighty degrees off of what Mrs. Robinson and The Cook expected, they let me to just disappear upstairs to the bunks and slack around. I deserve that, in place of all the emotional, physical, and mental sacrifices I have made just. For. This. Stupid. Broken machine. I don’t want Mrs. Robinson having to sweep the floor again, so I’m taking this fury upstairs to the attic.

I drop the box with no tenderness, and kneel beside it. My chest feels like it’s going to burst in anytime now. Before I know it, a sob jolts out of me and I crouch. My forehead against my knees, and throat sore from trying to muffle all the whines and sighs from being too silent on my rage. I let myself cry for the reasons I have. For the stupid journalist and her recklessness, for the time and effort, for me having to declare “there goes my broken dream”, for my iron will, for not listening to “just back down”. I let myself cry for my terrible decision making skill and my charm to mishaps. After a while, the sobs died down, leaving me there exhausted and tear stained. Muted thuds are heard as Mrs. Robinson makes her way to the attic. I don’t mind her finding me like this. In fact, at this state, I doubt that I would mind anything at all. I’m just red, and cold, and angry. Worst timing of bad luck ever. Like really? The moment you turn your back at me it has to be this time, world?

She rubs my back, saying, “Care to tell me what in the goddamn world lights up the fuse?”

“That stupid journalist knocked my accelerator off, and completely disabling it. AWESOME right?” I told her.

“Well, in this _perfect_ world apparently X-factors exists whether you like it or not. You’re mad, I completely understand. And it’s clear that no apology was in sight from the ‘reckless journalist’. But, hey Alexis.. Loosen up a little bit. Shit happens, and they do. That’s okay.” She tries to console me.

“Sure, shit happens. Like how I always end up here no longer than three months almost every foster family?”

I told you. When I’m at this state, it’s best to just give me a bear hug and let me sleep. Mrs. Robinson just sigh, and told me to catch a nap. She was right. Today is special, so she snuck me another glass of milk before letting me doze off into my nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes the life of the present. What do you think?? From here, pretty much most of the story will be told in first person's point of view. So you will get a peek into her judgments and feelings and stuffs.. So yeah.. Let me know, that would be very much appreciated.  
> Again, I'm sorry for grammatical errors and whatnot. I appreciate your pair of eyes, and time. Much love love xx


	3. Chapter 3. A Hand with the Sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two sides of the same coins aren't always the same, a beautiful joyful evening to one could be a hellish encounter for another. As Alexis makes her way through life with certain steps, some other's world just got shattered to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a little introduction to Tony's side on this chapter, so.... seat back, and prepare your emotional state. Because from here it'll get a tad bit more interesting. The story that isn't told from Alexis's side will be written as third person's point of view. If you have any ideas, and just feedback in general, don't be hesitant to write me on the comment section. Again, much much THANK YOU for reading. So. I babble way too much at this point. Let's roll the curtains, and enjoy. XX

                Anne shook me off gently to wake me up from my prolonged nap. I was being a dick to everyone. It is true what they said, most of the time a nap cures wrath.

                “You missed dinner. You’re feeling better? Mrs. Robinson told me. I’m so sorry, Xis.” She sits on the bed.

                “Yeah, shit happens. I did get to meet Tony Stark though.” I told her, with a smile. It feels liberating.

                “Oohh, young lady. NO WAY! Does he look as handsome in real life? Did you touch hIM? Is he as charming? He must’ve smelt like a million bucks. Probably that’s what his cologne would cost, honestly. I JUST CAN’T HELP IT.” Anne recited with such excitement, the very contagious excitement she always does to me.

                “Geez, what is it with you and middle aged men in suits?” I laughed along with her.

                Talking to her settled me my own ground. Anne has this beautiful glow in her eyes when she speaks with passion oozing out of her, she has beautiful things all around her. The six pm light casting a pretty glow on her features. We converse about all the things happened today, I didn’t have to go to school today. At least there is still one fortune happened today.

                The evening gets later but the city never sleeps. Damn me and my excellent choice taking skill, I napped too hard and now sleep is nowhere in sight. I carefully sneak to the attic, not to wake everybody up. I like spending sleepless nights at the attic. The high window makes it looks pretty at night, and in that moment life feels pretty bearable. Unlike most nights, tonight I don’t want to bore myself in endless contemplations. I just want to feel the nothing, and let anything preoccupy my mind. To be so easily distracted and… I just don’t want to think. Everything that has been happening today felt like surges of electricity that rolls on the execution chair. It’s been overwhelming, but nothing I can’t handle. I sit right by the window with my chin resting on my palm. The lights and darks, the skyline, they glimmer like glitters in my eyes. The windowsill is cold against my touch.

                A thousand sighs later, my wristwatch calls that it’s somewhere past three in the morning. It would probably be best for me to catch another catnap. So I step downstairs and get myself safe and sound beneath the covers.

                The wake up call was harsh. I groaned a little and then prop myself with one elbow while the other hand frantically searching for the intrusion. It’s half past six. Amongst everything else, honestly the only thing I am not is a morning person. Sure, I do wake up very early everyday. But if I don’t mind all the rush when all the house inhabitants causes, I would never wake this early. With another subtle groan, I step into the shower. The water always comes out cold at first, but gradually turning warmer and warmer. After years of learning the hard way, I am smart enough now not to stand statically under the shower head when I wait for the water to stream down. Another benefit of waking up earlier than most, I get to shower for however long I want with nobody yelling from the other side of the curtain.

                With a damp towel on my head, I slither back into the bunk room to make my bed when I found an envelope on the bedside table marked: To Alexis. My eyebrows scrunched. I mustn’t have paid enough attention when I woke up this morning. My fingers reach for the envelope and open it carefully. There is another envelope in it. If this is a prank, this one’s dull but funny. I unveil the paper inside the envelope in my hand with our school’s stamp. This one seems important and formal. Why is Anne giving this envelope to me? Is she in trouble? Am I in trouble? Or are we in trouble? I shook the thoughts off of my shoulder. Reading word after word, line after line, my eyes widen. This is a letter stating that Anne’s Opening Night is tonight and it would be “pleasing” if I could come. I smile. And rush downstairs quietly.

“Mrs. Robinson!” I call out, “Oh, hey, Cook! Good morning.” I waltzed into the kitchen with no Mrs. Robinson in any corner of the room.

“Where’s Mrs. Robinson?” I asked.

“She’s in the back, it’s wash day.” He answers with a  smile, “now what gets you so chirpy this early?”

“It’s Anne, her play is tonight! She landed a role, that’s what keeping her late at school.” I tell him.

“Ah, so that’s what she’s been keeping from all of us. She’s a natural actress, that’s what they do.” Cook said. I fetch myself a glass, and fill it up with cold milk straight from the refrigerator. Pouring the milk into the tall glass, with a little spill from when I tilt the box. I pull the chair and take my usual seat by The Cook. And continue our little conversation. We talk about what it might be, and would I come, and Cook’s favourite subject: what will I wear to the opening night. To that I shrug and say, “I probably would wear the cool Metallica t-shirt I always save up for the more important occasions.” And he drops his head, chuckles and shakes his head. He then looks at me like I’m a lost deer in the headlight.

“Darling, cool t-shirts are not one for “more important occasions”,” Air quoting where I air quoted, “well at least, wear something nice. Like a skirt or a shirt. I can’t imagine how pretty you will be.” He said, framing me with his fingers like I would do when I want to take pictures when I was younger.

“You know what? That is actually correct.” I’m bewildered. “Well at least, I still got savings for a bouquet.” I trail off.

                The door to the back opens with Mrs. Robinson following right behind with an empty basket on her hip. Hitting me with a smile, she greets, “Why, good morning Alexis.” One thing about Mrs. Robinson, she loves wash day with passion. She loves washing everything, and gardening, and painting houses. The fuse always lighten up whenever it’s on schedule to do the plants and the washings.

“Now what’s getting you so buzzed up in the morning?” She asked to no one in particular about me.

“Anne got her part in the play, and Alexis is going to come!” The Cook answers before I could open my mouth.

“You’re gonna wear something really nice.” Mrs. Robinson says, and when I was just about to speak she continues, “and not vintage band t-shirts.”

“I know, I know.. I’m going to wear a skirt. AND a nice shirt that is not band t-shirt. Okay? Not even my Metallica one.” My answer seems to please everyone. So we’re moving on.

                I heard footsteps from the stairway, the girls are up and around already. Each one comes to the kitchen and taking a seat, passing good-mornings to everyone. A pair of hands pulls the chair right next to mine, it was Anne’s. Her smile, brighter than the morning sun and contagious. Mrs. Robinson saw her and hugs her so tight, telling her that everyone is so proud of her.

                By seven, we are all heading to our own schools. School wasn’t too much of a slack. I spent every second to every minute for the time I was I school feeling the whole zoo in my gut and cold sweaty palms. Tonight is Anne’s big night. Time flies in the speed of light. I rush home to take a good pamper of myself.

                And by pampering myself, I mean letting Mrs Robinson get me prettified with a little brush here and there. I want to look presentable, for Anne. So I do a little more makeup on my face than just the usual “make me look awake” stuff. The mascara wand and the eyebrow stuffs are a routine, but oh did I spend a good seven minutes on the eyeliner. Sure it’s like drawing, except your surface is not flat and your eye moves a lot and patience is not one of my virtues. After a good forty five minutes of having a long decision making with The Cook and Mrs. Robinson on what to wear because this is a big deal and you’ve seen how my relationship with “big deal decision making” going.

“Ma’am you found anything sweet yet?” The Cook asks Mrs. Robinson as I sit on the bed patiently waiting for them to present their chosen their part of clothing. Both of them are passionately going through every single piece of fabric I own.

Mrs. Robinson shakes her head as she began to speak, “Nay.” And then she sighs. Mrs. Robinson withdraws from the clothing department and takes a seat next to me.

“Alexis, I have something for you. Your regular donator left you a box, I think you’ll fit.” She trails, ending it with a series of mumbling and then disappearing to the stairs The Cook and I shares a look, the same “What just happened?” and shrug. A few moments later she comes back upstairs with a box of pretty clothes. Who in the world leaves me these pretty articles? Mrs. Robinson puts the box on the ground and pick out a pretty white shirt, and a black skirt. I slither away to try them on finger crossed because if these don’t fit, the cool Metallica shirt would have to work.

                The fabric feels so soft against my skin, and it fits me surprisingly well. The skirt is no different, it grips decently on my waist. I can’t believe I’m looking fancy tonight. Whoever this donator was, they must be an angel. In a world where we are all coursing down on our own path looking straight ahead minding thy own business, there are still people whom thoughts are not only for themselves. These angels with an awareness that there are kids who haven’t a choice but to charge ahead alone. I step out into the room, greeted by a gasp and a teary pair of eyes.

“Alexis, you look beautiful..” The Cook said with glistening eye while Mrs Robinson hands me a pair of my worn out ankle boots and takes a step back, eyeing me up and down as if she is inspecting what is missing on my outfit. She’s grand.

“Now,” Mrs Robinson begins, “you’re all set but there’s one thing missing.” She said and then takes off her golden earrings and putting it on my ears. She nodded, “there.”

                Taking a look of myself in the mirror, this feels like a strange game. Never have I imagined that I’d have a chance to look this tidy and proper besides my birthday. Which to be fair with, is an occasion that I save up for my cool t-shirts. But this, this is different. I put on my favourite pair of black socks and then the ankle boots. Unfortunately, none of us own a prettier bag but my American flag little backpack that I got for Christmas from a few years ago when I thought Captain America was cool. I still think he’s awesome, and cool, (and so handsome, and so… Maybe a hyper frustrated groan will suffice) but I don’t think it would be necessary to have the flag on everything that I own. The lack of options makes me go strut downstairs with a mademoiselle outfit, with American little backpack. Not that I mind.

“Now, you should probably go it’s already five. I don’t want you to be late honey.” Mrs Robinson hugged me, then shooed me with a smile and a metro card.

“Bye!” I waved to The Cook and Mrs Robinson and on with my way to the subway station down the street.

                Stopping by a flower shop to buy a bouquet. The man behind the counter greets with a polite “what can I get you”, his steel blue eyes dropped everything off for a second. A few stalks of Sunflowers for Anne. Beautiful, modest, happy, just like her. Slipping the ten dollars on the table on the counter for the handsome florist. He must have got delayed a little bit, it’s half past five and the flower shop is still open.

“Keep the change. Thanks for holding up,” I began to walk towards the door when he rushed and opens the door with one hand for me. His arm stretched out under the long sleeve t-shirt that looks quite tight for him. For a florist, he is pretty fit.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He said with a smile that would surely cause a devastation if handed out freely. I walk out the door with a smile and a ding. I carry on my journey. Ma’am? One thing for sure, I have never received such respect from anyone. It must be the outfit Mrs Robinson picked out for me. (hint: it’s not. It’s just “The guy, James” being himself.”)

                The train ride was silent and awkward. My feet won’t stop fidgeting on anticipation of how it’ll turn out. I can’t help but think that this is an opening night. Everybody will be having a night with their closest families and loved ones. I don’t know if my presence would be enough for Anne tonight.

                The train stops, and I walk as fast as I can. With a bouquet of sunflowers in my hand, and a smile from the handsome florist in my back pocket, I charge on to the theatre. I am so psyched to see Anne, my gut starts to wrench and a smile forms on my face. I can’t brush this excitement off. I enter the theatre with giddiness and my tongue tied into such a beautiful knot. I almost cannot speak when the lady at the front offered her hand for my ticket.

“Yes. Right. My ticket. It should be right here…?” I fiddled with my hands full, and a backpack. Fortunately, the nice lady offered to help and searched my backpack for the ticket. I swear to god, in this whole wide world misfortune couldn’t fall to anyone else but on me. Every. Single. Time. She reads the invitation carefully nodded.

“Ah, yes. Follow me, I’ll take you to your seat.” She says with a smile, handing me my invitation. With a sweaty palm of my good hand, I receive the piece of printed paper with my name on it and follow her to my seat.

                The seat was decent, I can see Anne on stage perfectly. I fidget on my seat with excitement and anticipation. Even I have to bite down hard on my lip and/or clench my jaw every time she comes on stage. She performs flawlessly beautiful. Sooner than I hope it would be, the curtain call were presented. Moments after, families are allowed to go backstage and give the loved ones a ruffle on the head, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, or all of them. I rush backstage, almost forgetting the sunflowers I have bought for Anne to tell her how proud I am of her. My heart swell when I see her standing right there, alone. She spots me, and run straight into my arms.

“ **You came!!** ” She half shout.

“Well, why the heck wouldn’t I?” I give her the bouquet, “I’m so proud of you, you have not a single idea. That was beautiful Anne! I swear to god. I am going to geek on everyone right off the bat, the first chance I got on breakfast time.” I laugh.

“Thank you so much, Alexis. And you're wearing a SKIRT!!” She exclaims.

“I know, I know. Mrs Robinson kind of, you know, made me.” We laughed.

“For God’s sake,” she sighs, “Oh, does it feel good not to be alone right now..” Anne sniffs the bouquet of her favourite flower.

“Are you almost done? We can have you your special dinner from The Cook.” I said with a smile.

“Yeah,” she said, “Sure, I’m grabbing my bag. Wait up, alright.” Anne disappeared into the changing room. I stand there, maybe this summer isn’t too bad. What could possibly go wrong here? Right? Well, sure, the science fair went to hell. But at least, at least I could still see the people that matters the most be happy over the simplest things in life. Even me, littlest things in life as sheer and insignificant as a “thank you” from the old lady who almost forgot her purse in the subway, the nice gesture and a beautiful smile from the man in the flower shop. Geez, what is wrong with me? It turns out that I haven’t shook that guy off of the back of my mind. Well, I can keep musing on him all I want I guess. I mean, what are the odds of me running into the same guy twice in this monstrosity. A hand on my shoulder jolts me out of the train of thought.

“Earth to Alexis?” Anne said with an endearing smile and a bouquet in one hand.

“You know what? The bouquet looks gorgeous on you. Didn’t know huge sunflowers would make a great arm candy.” I reciprocate the same smile she’s throwing.

“Let’s get out of here.” With that, we took off onto the streets and began our journey home.

* * *

 

_**—Meanwhile in the Tower—** _

“Sir, Happy is asking for permission to go upstairs.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice cut through the silence of the room, bringing Tony back to the common ground.

“Yeah, send him up.”

                Happy enters the room with an envelope in his right hand, his left putting the badge back where it was in his suit pocket. Tony looks at the envelope, his eyebrows furrowed. In this digitalised era somebody is still reaching out to him, one of the most tech leading man on planet earth, through the classic dove and scribbles way. Well, besides Steven Grant Rogers that is.

“Who in the world, Happy, jus—“ Tony began to speak, but soon being cut off by Happy Hogan.

“Well Sir, an ‘ACQUAINTANCE’.” He said, giving Tony a look while nodding his head a little bit emphasising the word ‘acquaintance’. With that Tony snatched the envelope from his hand and began to read the simple addressing on the bottom right of the envelope.

                Everything was average, the letter came through the mail with no specific little appendages. His mind starts to trail off tracing each possibilities with this letter, until he opens the piece of paper inside. How funny, so strange that such little thing could cause crazy heartache. Tony recognise, no, he knows damn well that handwriting. How it curves on ‘My dear Tony’, because nobody else in this whole goddamn world calls him ‘my dear Tony’ except one person. And that one person has been long gone from his life without a single trail for more than a decade. He sits down on the nearest chair he could stumble upon, his whole world is going to be turned upside down. His gut wrenches as he reads word after word, line after line trying to fathom if this is real. Everything crashes down, right when his eyes came across the point of the letter: “meet me at the Memorial.” His brain, his whole body, stops functioning for a brief moment.

“Mister Stark, are you okay?” Happy asked, looking at Tony with concern. Tony looks like he just got shook pretty bad, the last thing Happy would want is Tony to breakdown and his anxiety begin to attack.

“Yes, Happy. You can go now.” Tony said with absolutely zero certainty in his voice.

“Are you sure- -“

“Yes, Happy. I am sure. Leave. NOW.” He said, pointing at the elevator.

                Tony Stark. A genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…….and heartbroken? His feelings hits him harder than it has ever had. In moments, he is dragged back to that night six-seventeen years ago. Alone, in his bed, the sun hasn’t rose. And to him, the sun never did rise. With his head on his palms, tears began to escape his eye. His gentle sighs turns into silent sobs and his body shakes. He doesn’t know what to do.


End file.
